


Red on yellow

by mashmash



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by twenty one pilots, Kihyun is just mentioned as a nerdy student tm, Mental Health Issues, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Why Did I Write This?, and the treehouse situation, everyone deserved better, from forest mainly, hyunwoo deserved better tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashmash/pseuds/mashmash
Summary: The stomach in my brainThrows up onto the pageMy brain has given upWhite flags are hoistedThis situation's becoming direMy tree house is on fireAnd for some reason I smell gas on my hands.





	Red on yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no see and I'm here with a thing inspired from my favorite duo, Twenty One Pilots, and with my insecure ass thinking that this fic shouldn't be here but HERE IT IS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT SOMEHOW BC IM STILL CRYING

He is writing. He is writing on old, yellow paper, red pen in his hands, filling every space on it. He fills the page with letters, words, meant to be seen, to be read. The voice tells him it will see them, it will read them.  
  
He is writing, now salty droplets smudging the red. The voice tells him it's okay, it doesn't matter, just continue writing. _“I know, Jooheonie, I know you prefer letters over texts,”_ he smiles.  
  
He is writing, the voice continues, but something's not right. Where does this voice come from?  
  
_“I know Joo, you're busy studying, I get it, don't stress it out. I just know you love letters, man, that's why I'm writing.”_ His hand hurts, he is done, he assesses his work. Red, his favorite colour, he will like it. The voice will like it.  
  
The voice? Jooheon will like it.  
  
He smiles and folds the yellow paper, putting it in a simple envelope, address and recipient already written on it. He secures it, the letter should not be lost, it should be delivered, it should be seen, it should be read.  
  
He runs to the post office, glad he lives next to it, his parents have found a great place to live. The worker waves, he knows him, he delivers all his letters.  
  
“Another letter kiddo?”  
  
“Yes, sir, my friend is waiting for it.”  
  
He waves back, the job now left to the man, he trusts him with something precious. The voice thanks him. _“Here you are Joo, I did it again, now be patient, will you? It will arrive soon.”_  
  
Jooheon was a patient person. But patient people always explode in the flashiest ways. And sometimes, mere humans can’t survive such a blast. Jooheon couldn’t.  
  
Minhyuk likes flashy things. He likes fireworks. He likes intricate coffee drinks. He likes blasts. So, he keeps the biggest one he has ever seen in his life in mind.  
  
  
  
“That's it for today, don't forget to leave today's homework on my desk,” Mrs. Kim reminds them after the bell rings. People swarm around her, asking questions or delivering the assignments she asked for. She is kind, students always her priority, she makes math fun. And math isn't fun, so she is a hero. Minhyuk gathers his stuff, homework in hand, he leaves it on her desk with a bright smile. She smiles back happily, like she wasn't dealing with death in numerical form ten minutes ago.  
  
Cafeteria food sucks on Wednesdays, so he is content with a tuna sandwich from home, his mother insists he eats at school, “helps the brain keep working properly”. No one is at the corridor at the old part of the school building, he keeps walking while looking around cautiously, he can't get caught. Jooheon never gets caught, so he shouldn't either. Once in front of the room he checks for the last time, still nobody around, he smiles and gets in.  
  
_“Hello, I'm back, nobody saw me as usual.“_  
  
He puts his stuff in the broken closet, no drawers or hangers in it, just boxes filled with old equipment, but it's enough space for the two of them (since when do voices put their belongings in closets?). Minhyuk stares at the cassette player and presses play, a winding sound taking over the room and then, laughter. His laughter. Jooheon's laughter. He sits, he takes out paper, the old yellow paper, he writes.  
  
The voice is on again, now out of his head, excitedly talking to him. Not the current him, the old him, but does it matter really? It is talking to him. He is talking to him and they are having fun.  
  
He writes, his handwriting's sloppy, who can write normally with blurry vision? His sleeve takes away the watery blur, he writes again, now more clearly.  
  
_“Jooheonie don't worry, I love you, you're my best friend. “_  
  
No space on the paper now, the process is the same, reading, folding, securing. He puts it in his bag, between two pages in his history textbook, Jooheon likes history.  He turns off the player, he takes his stuff and locks the door.  
  
_“Laters, buddy.”_ And he is off to his class.  
  
  
  
  
Hyunwoo doesn't mind change. He doesn't mind many things really, so when his family talks about moving out at lunch, he just nods, eating his steak. That's why he just unpacks his stuff quietly in his new room, his kendo trophies wrapped in bubble wrap, keeping them from getting damaged.  
  
“Put that in there, honey, it's Woo's kendo album. Aaah, finally getting out of that hole of a house feels nice.”  
  
“Agreed. But what a pity, the previous family had it rough. Heard their son died in here, they couldn't handle it, so they left.”  
  
“Or maybe the real estate agent was an asshole and was messing with you. Put that in the cabinet, too.”  
  
His parents are loud and he doesn't enjoy loud. Maybe he minds something after all.  
  
  
  
  
After some weeks, it finally feels like home. Hyunwoo's place is fully decorated, his mum fulfilled her utmost desire of hiring a decorator, who actually did a decent job.  
  
He starts liking it here. Quiet neighborhood, trees, amiable people at school, a kendo dojo close to his home, a big pack of letters in his mailb- wait. He likes it here, but that was weird. He found letters, many letters in his mailbox, before his parents could check.  
  
But Hyunwoo is not like that. He is not indiscreet. That's why the letters are under his bed in a shoe box, hidden from his mom, dad and himself.  
  
The letters keep coming every other day, same paper same envelope, same handwriting on the outside. After a while, one shoe box is not enough, now he hides them in two. Every letter tempts him more, but he is not like that.

 

 

 

 ”Do you know where, uh, Mrs. Kim's office is? I need to take some notes and textbooks from her,” Hyunwoo mumbles to the red haired kid next to him in class and pokes him lightly on the shoulder, careful not to be caught by the teacher.

 

He notices that the boy wears earphones and probably doesn't want to turn off whatever rock music piece he is listening to in order to answer to his petty question, but all the others around him are either sleeping or actually paying attention to the ultimately boring religion class, so he doesn't have much of a choice. The boy pulls down his hoodie and earbuds and ruffles his red mess of hair before turning to look at him with a slight smile plastered on his face, being surprisingly friendly.

 

“Can you please say that to me again? I had the volume too high, Saint Jung's preach about Jesus is not my thing,” he laughs and scratches his neck nonchalantly.

 

“Saint...Jung?”  
  
“Mr. Jung. The religion professor,” he points at the teacher in front of the board, “he is all about Catholicism even if half of us don't give a damn. Well except for Kihyunnie back there.” This time he points at the kid behind Hyunwoo, who is quietly taking meticulous notes, seeming extremely focused.

 

“I… I see. Well, I just needed directions for Mrs. Kim's office. I'm new and I need some notes and textbooks.”  
  
The boy's eyes light up when he hears the word new, he gives Hyunwoo his hand discreetly and flashes a shit eating grin at him, gummy teeth showing.  
  
“New, huh? That's why you didn't know about the teach. I'm Minhyuk, I can take you to her office before the next period if you want.”  
  
Hyunwoo stares between Mr. Jung and Minhyuk's extended hand before shaking it lightly, a small, polite smile formed on his lips. He nods to the suggestion, he would like some company since his sense of direction sucks. And it sucks big time, because Hyunwoo still does the «L» gesture with his left hand’s thumb and index to distinguish between left and right in secret sometimes. The boy nods back, flashing a blinding smile to him before putting his earbuds on again, the faded sound of some badass drumming coming from them now gone.

 

 

 

 After thirty minutes of an excruciating monologue about God's forgiveness, this class is finally over and Hyunwoo shoves all his stuff in his book bag quickly, wanting to escape this heavy atmosphere this damn lesson created. He feels a light tug on his shirt and he turns, slender fingers poking on his shoulder. Their owner is Minhyuk, who is yawning and waiting for him, ass half sitting on his desk.

 

“Ready? I wanna eat my mackerel sandwich in this break,” he spurts while walking out of the classroom, Hyunwoo skipping a bit faster to reach him and not to be left behind.  
  
“Man, my mom just puts all kinds of fucking seafood between bread and it actually tastes good. She is, like, the Gordon Ramsay of sandwiches,” he unwraps the foil around the homemade snack and takes a big bite, remnants of mayo on his cheek.  
  
Hyunwoo smiles awkwardly and stares at the stain on the boy's cheek, too shy to point it out.

 

“My mom, uh, isn't good at cooking. My dad does that, but he is no Gordon Ramsay,” he scratches the back of his neck, remembering the microwave meal he ate yesterday for lunch.

 

After some small talk they finally reach the professor's office, a pastel yellow door semi opened, the sound of classical music coming out from the crack. Minhyuk knocks lightly and doesn't wait for too long, he barges in with a smile.

 

“You should actually wait for an answer if you're knocking, Lee Minhyuk.” Mrs. Kim deadpans, eyes not leaving the paper in front of her.

 

“I am just bringing important guests to you Mrs. Kim, this is Hyunwoo, the new guy. He wants notes. Now excuse me, cause I have to attend to some important business. Sorry for the door, ma'am,” he bows and grins at the teacher, who is sighing heavily but with an equally happy grin on her face, and leaves before she could say anything to him.

 

“That kid, he had mayonnaise on his face, did you see? How is he smart exactly?” She sighs again, putting three papers on a huge pile of exams and taking a folder out of a drawer.  
  
“You are, uuuuh, Son Hyunwoo, right? The transfer student,” she mumbles after checking the documents in front of her.  
  
Hyunwoo nods and is ready to start talking, but Mrs. Kim gets ahead of him.

 

“Here are all the notes you will need and your textbook. I had a spare one, so it has some additional notes on it and you don't have to pay to buy it. Oh, and here's a map of the school. There's an old building too, but you don't really need a guide for that. We don't use it anymore. Is there anything else you need, dear?” Her tone is sweet but stern, Hyunwoo thinks they will get along well.  
  
“No Mrs. Kim, thank you. Have a good day,” he bows a little bit too low out of nervousness and walks out of the room, hearing the teacher breathing out a quiet chuckle. He stands outside the door for a bit, thinking about his new school and teachers, about Minhyuk.  
  
Hyunwoo doesn't mind change. He doesn't mind anything really, so when Minhyuk barges in his life, he just accepts it, not really knowing that he will discover the thing he minds the most because of him.

 

 

 

 They get along well. Minhyuk is a bright kid, a ray of sunshine casted upon Hyunwoo's monotone life, he gets surrounded by a loudness he doesn't seem to be disturbed by.

 

Minhyuk talks and talks, he talks about how he got his butt kicked in Space Invaders by a random girl at the arcade, he talks about the crab and avocado sandwiches his mother made for him two days in a row because that ended up being his favorite combination, he talks to Hyunwoo about everything and nothing in particular and Hyunwoo always has a smile to offer, trying to reciprocate and reveal things about his life too.

 

He talks about his victories and defeats at kendo matches, he talks about that one time his mother redecorated their living room and dining room in one day and when his father returned from a business trip he thought he got into the wrong house and left wondering, he talks about his first girlfriend that broke up with him because he was embarrassed to kiss her in public.

 

They talk and they go out, they visit secluded playgrounds and cozy cafes, family restaurants and crowded cinemas, but their homes are a no go. None of them feels comfortable there and they don't question the reasoning behind this. They accept each other as the people they appear to be and don't dig further. That's the fundamental ground of their friendship, and they are more than content with it.

 

Jooheon shouldn’t feel threatened by him or anything, Minhyuk thinks _. It’s okay Joo. He’s just a friend. You’re my best friend. Best._ The voice laughs it off.

 

 

 

 “Hey, Woo, what do you think our class will do for the festival? I'm betting on a haunted house, these kids are all basic as fuck,” Minhyuk mentions, licking some ice cream that dripped from his cone off his fingers.

 

“I'm not sure, I heard that Mr. Jung has something in mind, he is the advisor after all,” Hyunwoo replies nonchalantly as he swings back and forth, the swing set squeaking from the weight.

 

The school festival is an event everyone expects with utmost anticipation, the nose tingling smell of food taking over the whole building, boys dressed as japanese maids and girls putting up a cute front for their guests at kissing booths; a day when all teens can take a break away from the hectic student life and actually have a good time in this hellhole called school.

 

Each class has a different project and this year, Minhyuk's and Hyunwoo's class organizes a treasure hunt. It is Saint Jung's proposal as Hyunwoo speculated and it comes with a rant about how immoral kissing booths and crossdressing are, and that a hunt could actually put these damned kids' brains to work. The kids ignore the babbling but thank him anyway, deciding that it would be better if the hunt could take place in the old school building. Teachers agree, and Mrs. Kim offers to create riddles, just to make the game more intriguing. The treasure includes tickets for free food on the first and second day of the festival and all the kids agree, because come on, who isn't a slut for Free Food™ .

 

 

 

 On the day of the festival, Minhyuk finds himself gathering people for their hunt, having Hyunwoo next to him as the fee collector. The money will go to charity, but Minhyuk manages to fish a bill or two from the jar when they seem a lot.

 

After an hour or so, a huge crowd is gathered in front of the old school gate, the class president dividing them into teams and explaining the rules. Hyunwoo and Minhyuk end up in different teams, the latter swearing that he will buy Hyunwoo rice cakes if he wins. Hyunwoo doesn't like rice cakes at all, but appreciates the offer nonetheless, the boy never shares his food. Never.

 

The hunt is supposed to take an hour, but it turns out it is more difficult than that. The first team, which surprisingly happens to be Minhyuk's one, finishes earlier than any other, managing to win by avoiding certain rooms such as the art and the broadcasting clubrooms, due to Minhyuk's and Kihyun's sharp minds.

 

Hyunwoo's team on the contrary, finds it difficult to proceed, a lot of students' grandparents as members, getting nostalgic over the cassettes and old school radios of the broadcasting room that doesn’t even have a single clue in it as Mrs. Kim reveals later on. Hyunwoo finds the room interesting too, the equipment quite old but still working and the place relatively cleaner than all the other old clubs, it catches his attention and he makes a promise to himself to come back here in secret one day, since the building was out of bounds on normal school days.

 

 

 

 “Here are your rice cakes, the girls put some more in yours, Hyorin likes your buff fluff nature probably,” Minhyuk mocks and gives Hyunwoo his plastic container, filled with steaming hot rice cakes. He stares at the food and he can't help but cringe a bit, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the ever so sharp Lee Minhyuk.  
  
“Why didn't you tell me that you don't like rice cakes, Dumbwoo? You should have told me so. I'll buy you whatever you wanna eat, so choose. Do you want caramelized apples? Mochi? Popsicles?” Minhyuk bombards the boy with options and he pats his shoulder in return, reassuring him that it would be okay if he bought him some green tea mochi. After some minutes, they are sitting on a bench in the middle of the school yard eating their snacks, Minhyuk having bought two bags of sweet and savory goodies, planning to eat them all in one night and beat his existing record of overeating apparently.

 

“Minhyuk.” Hyunwoo calls while munching on a fluffy mochi ball.  
  
“Mhhm?”  
  
“Have you ever, uh, been in the old school building before? I'm asking because it is normally out of bounds.”  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“Yes.” No hesitation. Minhyuk should be hurt, but he isn’t.  
  
“Then continue with your question,” Minhyuk smirks and keeps eating his rice cakes with one chopstick as a fork instead of eating normally.

 

“Well, I hadn't, and I found something interesting in it. Ever been in the broadcasting club room?”  
  
Minhyuk almost chokes on his food. Stay calm, he doesn't know about the hideout, he thinks and swallows audibly.

 

“Uh, yes. It has some cool radios and all. But nothing worked that well. They are garbage. I checked them all with Jooheon.” Whoops. Calm down, act normally, he can't possibly know Jooheon, he hasn't introduced them yet _. He doesn't know about the hideout, Joo._  
  
“I'm....not that sure about that. Jooheon?” Hyunwoo eats his last bite and lies on the bench, Minhyuk taking his legs and putting them on his lap, insisting that he would be more comfortable that way.  
  
“A... friend. We went there once, but we haven't gone since then because he is a scaredy cat and doesn't like,” air quote marks, “trespassing.” Plus, they really were garbage, Woo.”  
  
“Ah, I see. It just seemed cool,” Hyunwoo compromises and stares at the clouds, trying to remember if the name Jooheon reminded him of something or not.

 

 

 

 Hyunwoo despite his compromise that day, though, goes back to the club room. He goes many times, bringing his own cassettes that his mom keeps in their attic because they are «vintage things that will cost a fortune in some years» and listens to them, since he doesn't find any other cassettes in the room. He even tries to record some of his, with little or zero luck, since he doesn't really know how these debilitated, old fashioned stuff work. He also discovers some old club room record books in a drawer and a love letter, which gets him feeling awkward because prying into other people's love lives was weird, especially if these people are thirty-ish years old now.

 

He goes many times, but always alone, always when school hours are past gone, feeling better if Minhyuk won't be there to look for him since he didn't like it here or if he can't hear his classmates' voices from the next lot.

 

 Everyday he finds a new thing, a book about music or a hidden group picture of old club members, but what he doesn't expect to find is Minhyuk, sitting on a chair and talking by himself, all alone.

 

He walks at the school corridor, students gathering their stuff from their lockers to leave and groups of people chatting, all heading towards the school exit. Minhyuk skips last period, mentioning something about an important errand he has to run with a friend. That Jooheon probably, Hyunwoo thinks and shrugs, letting the red haired boy do what he wanted, as if he can be controlled.

 

Heading to the club room has become a habit of his, an oasis in the middle of the loud parents desert, a well full of silence and peace. He could spend some time alone, even thirty minutes were okay, his private space needs were satisfied easily. He heads there today as well, hoping that maybe he can figure out how the fucking recording machine works. Why was technology so user unfriendly back then?

 

Hyunwoo manages to get in without anyone noticing, he walks up the stairs with soft steps, still cautious (because duh, he was being illegal here), walking through the corridor crouching, careful not to be seen from the windows.

 

He is about to open the door leading to the broadcasting room, but a noise makes him stop in his tracks.

 

It is not exactly a noise, he concludes in seconds. It is a voice, two voices, maybe three, coming from inside the room. He doesn't dare to open the door and find out, he is just putting his ear close to the thin surface and tries to eavesdrop, tries to understand who is ruining his moment of peace, who is drinking all the water from his oasis's well.

 

“ _How does this wor- oh, I found it, I found it Min, you just press this red switch. Is it recording? Come and say hi.”_  
  
A voice he doesn't recognize.

 

“ _Hello, hi, hi, is it really recording Joo? Oh, it has this sign here, it is really recording us. Hi, we are in the old broadcasting room and this is Minhyuk speaking. Lee Minhyuk, Jooheon, say your name, this is your tape too, dumbass.”_  
  
He recognizes this voice. He knows that name, Lee Minhyuk, this is his friend's name. A smile appears on his face and his hand reaches for the doorknob again.

 

A muffled sob.

 

His hand freezes over the knob seconds before he takes it back. Was that from the cassette too? He tries to overhear again.

 

 _“This is Lee Jooheon, this bastard's friend and we managed to make this work. What should we say in our first cassette Min?”_  
  
“Should we confess our love for each oth- ouch! Why did you hit me?”  
  
“Because you're saying bullshit. I am not your girlfriend. I love you though.”  
  
“That was sweet, but this cassette has proof of your violent acts towards me, I CAN TAKE THIS TO THE POLICE MOTHERF- OUCH! Why are you like this?”  
  
“Because I love you, darling, it is called tough love. Here, the confession you wanted.”  
  
“Confession my ass. Close that thing. We will do it agai-“  
  
Silence.

 

Crying.

 

Hyunwoo can't move his legs to leave and he can't move his hand to unveil the mystery, he can only listen.

 

“That hurt, Jooheon, why did you hit me without a reason?” The person laughs, a weird combination of chuckling and sobbing.

 

Cassette winding.

 

Voices.

 

Hyunwoo is sure. He can hear the voice of his friend, Minhyuk, he was one hundred percent sure. But it sounded old, rusty, mingled with a winding cassette sound.

 

But then again, it just sounded vivid, loud, like his friend was in the room.

 

Two Minhyuks. Cassette and real, he thinks. But why does his friend sound like crying? And why is his friend in there, when he claimed that the place was full of garbage? And then there was this _Lee Jooheon._ Why does this name ring a bell?

 

He is weirded out and angry, he wants answers and he is about to get them, his hand now fully on the doorknob, he is going to get i-  
  
“Why Jooheon? Why did you have to leave me? Why did you have to go like that?”  
  
He stops again. Leave him? Go? Wasn't he with Jooheon, like, one hour ago?

 

“Why did you have to _die?”_  
  
What?  
  
_What?_  
  
He doesn't understand. Minhyuk was supposed to go out with Jooheon today. He came here with him some time ago and thought this place was just too old. Jooheon is Minhyuk's friend. Is. Not was. What the fuck is Minhyuk saying? Lee Jooheon-  
  
The letters.

 

The recipient.

 

Red letters and yellow envelopes come to his mind, the words «Lee Jooheon» written on the outside of every one of them.

 

He didn't understand then, but now he does.

 

He moves slowly, like a peaceful breeze, he gets out of this old building without a sound and walks. Walks painfully slow. His instincts say that he shouldn't rush for the truth, for the answers. And he doesn't.  He takes his sweet time, until he can't delay it anymore. He finds the boxes, a sheet of dust on them, he swipes it off and opens them. Red words. _Lee Jooheon._ He knew it. He opens the first envelope he finds, and he reads.

 

 

 

 

 He isn’t sure about how many hours he’s been reading. About how many hours he’s been sitting on that spot on his carpet, his eyes stuck on the red scribbles like they have been dipped into the most powerful glue the world has to offer, the words _friend, suicide, love_ and _death_ playing in his mind in an endless loop. What in the world is happening under his nose? What in the world is happening with his friend? And what in the world is he supposed to do about that?

 

The last letter sits on top of a faded yellow and red heap, shattered envelopes and folded letters all over the floor, Hyunwoo next to them, quiet. He can’t fathom a word, his brain has yet to process such information even though the message is clear. Lee Jooheon was Lee Minhyuk’s one and only best friend. Lee Jooheon was his one and only hope. And, Lee Jooheon is _dead,_ his life taken by his own hands.

 

He slowly stands up, stepping on the letters on his way to the door, he goes and fills himself a glass of water. On a second thought, he pours it down the drain and makes himself a coffee instead, seeking calmness in the redolent beverage. He hugs the mug with his big palms and breathes in the aroma, wanting his whole body to fill with steam and fragrance and get rid of the unwanted feelings and thoughts. As if. _Lee Jooheon is dead, Hyunwoo, and your friend is suffering._ He takes a generous gulp out of the scorching hot drink, this time thinking that the sharp pain on his tongue and bottom lip will overthrow any uneasiness. _You should do something, Hyunwoo, he has nobody else._

He tightens his grip around the cup and walks upstairs again, this time kicking the papers closer to the box and under the bed, he really needs a moment of peace here, he will deal with it when the time comes. _You don’t have much time, he is alone Hyunwoo, do something, do something now._ Sigh. He places the mug on his desk and stares at his notebooks, thinking, straining his brain, trying to grasp the situation and find what he can d- oh.

 

Notebooks. Papers. He stares at them some more and then moves his hands from under the desk, ripping off a piece of striped paper out of his math notebook. He shifts on his chair and leans forward to grab his schoolbag, fiddling with his stuff until he finds his favorite red pen, Jooheon likes red. Why does he have to know about this now? One more sigh. He starts writing in the form of a letter, starting with “Dear Minhyuk” and then squiggles on it because it sounds forced to him. He rips another paper out of the notebook and starts writing more freely this time, emptying his heart through the pen and onto the paper, hoping to reach even a millimeter deep in his friend’s heart. Hoping to reach his skin. Hoping to reach anything that belongs to Lee Minhyuk, the air he breaths, the sandwiches he eats, anything. He wants to reach him, and this is the only way.

 

 

 

 Minhyuk is sneaking out of school again, telling Hyunwoo that he is going to get some notes from a teacher. He knows he can buy only a little time out of this but telling Jooheon hello and writing a letter can’t be overlooked, best friends are a priority. He creeps into the old building, stepping silently on dusty floors and semi broken stairs until he reaches the hideout. He finds the door opened. _Must have opened from the wind that comes from the window, Joo, nothing to worry about, happens all the time, you know it._ He gets in and closes it behind him, ready to sit on the chair in front of the desk, but that’s when he finds a second alarming occurrence.

 

A letter. _Letter?_ He stares at it like it is something out of this earth, like an extraterrestrial object, and then he takes it in his hands, trying to find any clue about its existence. He only sees his name on it, written in a familiar handwriting but he can’t really think straight, he shoves it in his bag and hides some of his cassettes that were laying on the table before he leaves, just because. _We are fine, Joo, this letter is nothing. The hideout is safe. You are safe, right?_ He says that, but his heart is beating erratically as he runs down the stairs, his mind trying to exclude every possible suspect and find the one who may have left his offending piece of paper on _their_ desk. _Don’t worry Joo, I’ll find them. Pinky promise._

“What’s that?” Hyunwoo mumbles between munches, the mac and cheese served at the school cafeteria today too good for him to stop eating and talk properly.

 

“Hm, do you care about my secret admirers, Woo?” Minhyuk smirks, stealing Hyunwoo’s pineapple jelly because he knows the boy doesn’t have a sweet tooth. He digs in the small plastic bowl and wiggles the piece of jelly on his spoon before shoving into his mouth, grinning.

 

“Not really. Just thought you were studying, and I got worried.”

 

Minhyuk glares and throws his plastic spoon on Hyunwoo before he grabs the one from the boy’s tray, eating like nothing happened. He unfolds the white paper with one hand and looks over it once, bright red letters scrawled over it, no sender. _Jooheon._ What? His eyes stay on that word only, that word which repeats itself in this letter, over and over. His eyes widen, who could possibly remember this now? After all this time? Minhyuk thought that people had forgotten Jooheon, that he was only his now. Thought he was the only one he had, as Jooheon was the only one for him as well. Who is this person talking about him freely like that now?

 

He furrows his eyebrows in irritation as he folds the letter again, shoving it into his book bag with force, Hyunwoo following his actions with his mouth still stuffed.  
  
“Is having admirers that vexing?”

 

His gaze is fixed in his food, but his hand is clenching his fork with all the strength he has. Did he do the right thing? Was sending this letter which gave his friend this expression on his face the only thing he could really do?

 

Minhyuk forces out a snicker, now just stirring the poor jelly in the bowl with unneeded force, pieces of it falling on the table.

 

“Maybe I should start studying instead.”

 

 

 

 He tries to throw them away, but he can’t. They are coming at random days, sometimes five days late and sometimes day by day. He wants to tear the envelopes apart but whenever the mysterious writer mentions his friend, his resolve withers. He traps them in the drawer of the broadcasting room, among the cassettes and pictures and leaves them there, taking them in his hands for some mere minutes every time, breathing in the stale air of the hideout and starting to read, before shoving them inside again. He hasn’t finished a single one, yet he opens them all.

 

His brain can’t possibly accept the word “dead” next to his friend’s name. It can’t accept the past tense used by that damn writer, when Jooheon is right there, with him. _How dare they, Jooheonie? I will find them. I’m with you, Jooheonie. As you’re with me…right?_

It doesn’t take long, but Hyunwoo gets caught. It may be his fault, being too careless around Minhyuk after a while of doing this, but he doesn’t regret this. Minhyuk seems better to him. He is laughing more than usual, he wants to hang out more frequently, his visits at the broadcasting room are getting sparse. His letters never get answered, but then again, the reply he seeks is in front of his eyes, his friend seeming evidently happier. That’s what matters for him, his help to reach his friend. And he did it.

 

 

He steps on a letter on his way out of the house, going to his kendo practice. Same envelope, same handwriting on the outside. He steps back and crouches to get it in his hands, his fingers trembling when they touch the stained from his footprint paper.

_To: Son Hyunwoo._

He stands still, his heart ready to get out of his parted lips and fall on the freshly mowed grass of his house. Sitting on the ground in front of his door, Hyunwoo takes his sweet, torturous time opening the letter and getting it out, unfolding it both reluctantly and expectantly. He breathes in heavily, and starts reading.

 

 

 

  _Dear Woo,_

_It feels weird, writing to you. It really does. Writing in red, as well. You know I only have, like, two pens, right? You probably do, since you always leave one on my desk for me every day. I keep losing them, though, Woo, I’m an irresponsible shit. I gave one to Kihyun one day, you should probably get it back._

_Anyway, this isn’t about pens, is it? What is it about, really? Is it about us? About you? Me? Jooheonnie? Probably about us all._

_I know, Woo. I know you did this. You wrote all these, right? You were leaving them in the hideout.  I saw you, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you._

_How do you know about all these though? From the cassettes? School rumors? You shouldn’t have trusted those, if that’s the case. They didn’t know Jooheon. They had no idea. Have you? I wonder. Guess I’ll never know._

_You are a true friend, Hyunwoo, you really are. It took me a while, but trust me, I know. Like, wouldn’t you be mad if people were babbling about me? You would. I’m sure you would. I was as well. Jooheon is mine, Hyunwoo, nobody else knows him as well as I do. Jooheon’s name shouldn’t be mentioned from all these fucking random people, you know? He’s a stranger to them. And to you. I was really mad about the letters, Woo._

_But, they helped. Is “help” the right word? I suck at this. You just showed me how things are. I couldn’t read them at first, how could I? I wanted to throw them away, but I failed. And now I’ve read them all, Hyunwoo. And I can tell you, I don’t regret it._

_Jooheon’s not here. He’s not, not anymore. And... thanks for pointing this out. You really did, and I’m grateful. It’s just…his image is so vivid in my mind, Woo. His voice, from the cassettes, have you heard the cassettes? You probably have. He is cool, right? My Jooheonie. He…was cool. He was. The past tense in all your letters must have gotten to me. Or, it’s just this day._

_This day came already, huh? When did all this time pass? I didn’t really grasp that, what the fuck. I can’t forget what it was like with him. One year ago, everything was fine and now… how am I supposed to just forget? I guess I just won’t._

_Anyways. I couldn’t just tell you even if I tried countless times, because I‘m a huge ass coward after all, so I’m writing this down, hoping it will reach you somehow. I just told the mailman that this is for the Son family, the new guys in town, and that it is the most important letter he will ever deliver in his life. We’re not too many, he probably knows who you are. I really hope so, because this… this should reach you._

_I can’t say goodbye to anything regarding Jooheon after all. I feel like everything is still in me and I can’t accept it, but in reality… he just took it all with him, didn’t he? I just can’t feel anymore. It’s like, my human part left with Joo, and I need to find it. I can’t say goodbye, so I’m just gonna find it._

_But, at least, I owe you one. A goodbye, and a thank you. Thank you for making it seem like it could return to normal for a while. Thank you for hearing me say nonsense for hours and exchanging my disgusting as fuck sandwiches with jelly. At this point you should learn that I absolutely hate them, especially the mackerel ones. Ew. Thank you for the pens, the notes, the homework. Thank you…for the letters. They really made me decide what I want. And lastly, goodbye._

_Goodbye, Son Hyunwoo, you’ve been a great friend._

_Yours,_

_Lee Minhyuk_

Twelve minutes. That’s how long it takes for Hyunwoo to go to school every day, but now, he does it in five. Five minutes are all it takes for him to breathlessly sprint his way to the old school building, ascending the fly of degenerated stairs like a mad man, hoping that Minhyuk would be there. That he would be on time. He runs down the hallway, his heavy footsteps making the dust sheet from the floor to swirl around in the air, his speed causing the gnarled curtains to flail. He abruptly stops in front of the closed door of the broadcasting room, and, as his breath becomes steadier and his heartbeat calmer, he hears it.

 

_Jooheonnie, I’m coming to find you. You’re a rude ass and left me behind, but now I can finally reach you. Wait for me, will you? It took me one whole year, but I’ll finally come._

The recorded voice of his friend reverberates all around him, an endless loop of these words, of Minhyuk’s goodbye. Hyunwoo’s fingers ghost above the doorknob, his insides shattering and twisting, and if someone was watching, they could probably see his hope leaving him, running out of his frame in tidal waves.

 

Minhyuk was always writing. He was writing on old, yellow paper, red pen in his hands, filling every space on it.

 

And now, as the door opens and Hyunwoo stops breathing, red drips on rusted, tiled yellow, and even though he doesn’t mind anything really, he will never mind anything more than this in his entire life.


End file.
